Synthetic Transmission
by Kimidori-chan
Summary: In the 21st century, singers and bands rise and fall in seconds, each having the lifespan of a housefly before they fall into obscurity. Not Xiang and Johannes. As Synthetic Transmission, they'll rise to stardom, and never fall.


[A/N: A short side project while my block on The Golden Rule persists. Warnings for possible sexually explicit scenes in later chapters, and drug use.]

She stared down at the teenage boy, her digitally enhanced face frozen in a cheeky wink, one hand crumpled in her shoulder length, auburn locks, the other hanging loose at her side, a microphone held preciously in that perfect, porcelain hand. After maintaining eye contact with her for a few moments, the teen grew bored, and behind corrective lenses, his lavender eyes flitted to the next idol. The roof was plastered in posters of singers, and bands, male and female alike, some American, some British, others European, mostly Asian, but all teenage idols, with some kind of quirk to their act, not realizing their limelight would only last for as long as their debut hit was in the charts before they crashed back down to earth, and had to live their life stacking shelves in some supermarket, never to be recognized again.

Johannes, the Icelandic teen behind the spectacles and the lavender eyes, glanced at some other posters on the walls, before finally, his gaze rested on Xiang. Xiang wasn't like the others on the posters. Xiang was in this room with Johannes. In fact, this was Xiang's bedroom, and Xiang's bed that Johannes was laying on as he lazily looked around the room. The black haired teen had his eyes closed as music resonated within the poster covered room, pumping out of the speakers, bass thudding in the background, the harmony of the duet and the fast paced, remixed violin filling their bodies with pride. Xiang's deep brown eyes didn't open until the final beat had stopped echoing and he finally met the gaze of his best friend. "Good enough?" He asked, flicking his dark fringe out of his eyes.

"Perfect. Just sync it with the video and upload it," Johannes nodded.

"I know the drill, idiot" Xiang clicked his tongue, taking a swig of Mountain Dew before combining the muted video with the music.

"What do you want to do later? Other than watch the views roll in?" He smirked. "CoD? Shitty movies? We need to restock on snacks and stuff…" Johannes shook his head of white hair, sitting up.

"Nah, Lukas wants me home for dinner. You could come round later though," he suggested hopefully, looking rather disheartened to see the other shaking his head.

"If I came over I'd be staying. Dad gets home from his trip tomorrow morning, and mum wants me here to see him when he gets back. We're having a 'family day'. Sorry." Johannes shrugged.

"It's cool," he assured him. "Got homework anyway." Xiang nodded slowly, before beckoning Johannes over. The pale teen got off the bed, and rested his arms on the back of Xiang's chair, leaning forward as the other hit the space bar, and leaned back, letting Johannes see the complete video, and the product of their hard labor. Rarely seen genuine smiles crept across their faces as they watched themselves on the screen, singing the song they had written themselves, the backing track a mixture of a violin melody that Johannes had written and played, remixed by Xiang, and added to an electronic backing track the British boy had made via audio software. This was their third song.

After watching the video, the two teens gave it their seal of approval, and Xiang began uploading it to YouTube. Johannes watched as fast fingers - trained from long Age of Empire campaigns and late night Left 4 Dead session – filled in the video title. "Dreams to Forget". The name had been scrawled at the top of the violin sheet music as a work in progress name after the first few bars had been written, and the title had stuck.

"I'm gonna get going," Johannes announced as the uploading bar slowly crept across the screen. Xiang nodded, and turned the revolving chair round, watching as Johannes half zipped his blue hoodie over his white t-shirt. The Icelandic boy slung his bag over his shoulder, and met Xiang's gaze. In two short strides, he was in front of the chair, and he bent down, pecking his lips. "See you Monday?" He asked.

"Yeah," Xiang nodded, leaning up to return the kiss. "And I'll decimate you on Team Fortress 2 tonight," he vowed, gaining a snort of laughter from the other.

"Sure, whatever," he grinned, leaving the room. As he descended the stairs, he could smell the delicious homemade cooking of Xiang's Chinese mother. There would probably be a damn feast tomorrow night, when Mr. Kirkland got home… He let himself out, and walked home.

Johannes slipped into the house, calling a greeting to his elder brother before going to dump his bag in his room. His room wasn't as covered in posters as Xiang's was – Johannes could actually see his walls – but there were a lot. As he kicked his shoes off, his phone buzzed in the pocket of his tight jeans. He slid the phone out, and checked the message, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards when he saw Xiang's name on his screen. He opened the text.

"Uploaded. 10 mins, 500 views, 297 likes, 8 dislikes, loads of fans, loads of trolls. We're doing this. We're making this happen. X"

Johannes read over the text, and his smile grew, not only at the success of their band, but at Xiang's excitement. Lukas called him to dinner from downstairs. Sending a quick reply to Xiang, Johannes looked up at a poster on his wall. No-one had heard of that singer in months; a one hit wonder.

He and Xiang wouldn't be like that. They'd get past the first hit. Past the first album. Past the first arena tour. Past the first world tour. No gimmick. Just the two of them, a violin, and Xiang's laptop.

From recording in the bedroom, to playing at Wembley.

They would be stars. Legends.


End file.
